


I Didn't Just Come Here to Dance

by jamesmarchant (orphan_account)



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Slash, Rock Band AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 12:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13570173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/jamesmarchant
Summary: Concerts really aren’t James’ thing.Big crowds, lots of noise, and an abundance of (frankly terrifying) punk teenagers? Yeah, definitely not James’ thing.





	I Didn't Just Come Here to Dance

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to mitch, @dethphones on tumblr for beta-ing! <3

Concerts really aren’t James’ thing. 

Big crowds, lots of noise, and an abundance of (frankly terrifying) punk teenagers? Yeah, definitely not James’ thing. 

James sucked it up though, because it was Brett’s birthday and Lindsey had surprised him with tickets to one of his weird obscure rock bands. She’d gotten enough for the whole office to go, and James would feel too fucking guilty if he skipped out on Brett’s birthday, anticipating the puppy dog eyes and cold shoulder he would receive if he did.  

Brett insisted on leaving as early as damn possible in order to get a good spot in the open venue, and they ended up being maybe the fourth group in line. They’d sat out in the February chill for what felt like eternity, shooting worried glances at the drunkards that stumbled past and wrinkling their noses at waves of cigarette and weed smoke - because of course Brett couldn’t have his favorite band be somebody popular enough to get a venue on the good side of town. 

Needless to say, James really wanted the night to be over. 

The others were somewhere in the line for merch, and James became the designated placeholder since he was the only one who didn’t want to buy anything. He’d grabbed a pretty nice view, literally right up against the left side of the stage, but James could already feel the headache coming when he saw he was only a few feet from a speaker. 

Mourning his forgotten earplugs, he leaned against the stage while he idly watched some staff set up for the opening band. 

James feels a firm pat on his shoulder, and he turns to find Brett with a new hat on, emblazoned with the name of the main act. Trevor and Asher are right behind him with bundled fabric in their hands, and Lindsey trails behind while taking a sip of a fresh beer. 

“Thanks for waiting. This is a great spot!” Brett says, patting James’ shoulder again before he leans over the edge of the stage to check out the view. 

“Yeah, you better have some migraine meds in your car.” James says bitterly, pointing his thumb over his shoulder behind him at the speaker angled perfectly at their group.

Brett just laughs, grinning toothily at James, “Man, this is gonna be a great concert. Lighten up a little, just maybe you’ll have some fun that way.” he teases. James puts on his typical  _ displeased  _ face, making Brett laugh again. 

While he was distracted the staff must have finished setting up, because the lights dim to nothing and cut off the conversation and quiet the crowd. James can just barely see four silhouettes emerge from the curtain, one sitting at the drumset, and the others making their way to their respective guitars and microphones. The crowd around him cheers, welcoming the change in pace from all the waiting they’d been doing. 

The lights come up and the band plunges into their first song, something loud and brash and fun. It’s got the crowd dancing along pretty well, considering few of them even know who’s playing. They’ve got a good sound, James could admit, and he taps his foot and bops his head to the beat. 

James turns his attention away from the lead singer’s energetic flitting about the stage for a moment, to the bassist who was just about as close to James as Lindsey or Trevor were. 

He looked young, maybe James’ age, with gelled up blonde hair and full sleeves of bright tattoos revealed by the man’s tank top. He looked lost in the music, head bowed and nodding along to the beat. 

James won’t lie - the guy’s hot. In a very  _ LA trash _ way, but still hot. Maybe it’s the brightly colored lights silhouetting the man, or maybe James has always been fond of tattoos, but either way James doesn’t look away from him for long.

Then, the blonde tilts his head to look down into the crowd, and his gaze jumped around before it settled on James. James realized he was outright staring now, and when they made eye contact his big dumb awkward fucking brain automatically made James give the other a shaky smile and a thumbs up. It must have been a funny kind of weird, because James watched as the man’s face broke into the most adorable, scrunched up smile he’d ever seen. He turned his head away from James, presumably to go back to focusing on the performance, but the ghost of that smile stayed on his face. 

The smile plants something warm and excited in James’ chest, and as the band plays on he sways just little more, moves his feet with just a little more energy. Brett is in his own world to James’ right, Asher and Trevor enthusiastically flailing behind him. 

James watches as the bassist sinks a little farther into the music, leaning back to really tear into the bass, tossing his head back so James gets a great look at the line of his throat in the blue spotlights. 

Losing himself in the music after that is a nearly conscious decision for James, and he knows he isn’t the most coordinated dancer but fuck if he cares when looking at the expression on that man’s face.

The band plays a handful of similar songs, but James barely pays attention to it. Between him staring at the sweat building on the bassist’s forehead and jokingly dancing back-to-back with Trevor, he’d lost track of time for the most part. The lead singer shouting a  _ thank you  _ and waving as he walks off stage takes him by surprise, and he doesn’t really wanna admit how disappointed he is to watch the band pack up. The colored spotlights dim while the normal lights of the venue come up, and the soft light brings James’ attention back to the bassist. 

The man in question was squatting close to the floor of the stage now, struggling to pick up his pedalboard from an absolute mess of cords. James, literally a foot away from said cords, impulsively reached forward and pulled a fistfull of them away from the pedalboard, freeing it. James got an appreciative smile in response, and James’ big dumb awkward fucking mouth blurted out “Hey, uh, great job! On the music.”

James was almost certain he wouldn’t be heard over the sound of 400 other people talking at once, but the blonde smiled wider and chirped “Thanks, man.” before he stood, pedalboard secure in his tattooed arms, and turned to walk behind the curtain offstage. 

“Smooth.” Brett said to his right, and James spun around to give him a look. Brett was standing with his crossed arms propped against the stage, facing James with the smuggest damn look plastered on his face. 

“Not a word.” James ground out, feeling heat rise in his cheeks, only encouraged at the laugh Brett let out at James’ expression.

“Hey,” Brett said through his giggles, “I told you you’d have fun tonight!”

“Not. A. Word.” James repeated, punctuating each word with a stern point at Brett’s chest. It only made him laugh harder, and James could see Trevor giggle and roll his eyes from behind Brett. 

James opened his mouth to yell at Trevor now, too, but before he could the bassist returned on stage and B-lined for James. His mouth went dry as the blonde kneeled down as close to James’ level as he could, smiling and extending his hand with something small and brightly colored in his fingers - his guitar pick. 

James took it a bit dumbly, a surprised smile on his face as he did. 

“Thanks for helping me out, I’m glad you enjoyed the show.” He said once James had the pick securely in his fist, standing and shooting James a wink paired with a mock salute. James stared in shock while the man picked his bass up from the stand on stage and walked out of sight once more. 

Right after the man passed the threshold of the curtain, Brett shattered the momentary limbo of James’ world by cupping his mouth and  _ shouting _ “Hey blondie, he’s single!”

“Brett, shut the  _ fuck up! _ ” James shrieked, punching Brett’s arm with the hand not holding the guitar pick. Unapologetic, he cackled in James’ face, and the bunch of traitors around James descended into laughter as well. 

Asher practically jumped on James’ back, “James, you  _ playboy!  _ Did you see that  _ wink? _ ” coming out through his laughter right into James’ ear. To his side James could see Trevor giving him theatrical eyebrow wiggles while Lindsey smirked into her beer. 

“I fucking hate all of you.” James threw back, the heat in his face he’d just tamed coming back full force. 

The pick was a distracting weight in his palm for the entirety of the main act. The memory of the blonde kneeling to James’ height, warm brown eyes only on James and head haloed by the lights, keeps a tiny, dumbstruck smile on his face the rest of the night, no matter how much Brett teased him for it. 

**Author's Note:**

> somethin quick & fun i whipped up, based off of something that actually happened to me at a concert a couple days ago lmao! i was right in front of the opener's drummer, and i helped him untangle some cords while he was picking up so he gave me his drumsticks - it was so sweet!!!!  
> im @jamesmarchant on tumblr, come say hi!  
> hope you enjoyed <3


End file.
